Until the Day I Die
by Perfect-Tempest
Summary: England and France have a relationship that's as convoluted as it is complicated; this is a dedication to that. SongFic drabble based on the song "Until the Day I Die" by Story of the Year. Rated M for sexual themes and undertones. FrUK.
1. Part I

**Until the Day I Die—Drabble Series**

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><p>"<strong>Until the day I die,<strong>

**I'll spill my heart for you."**

"Oh, _Angleterre_!" France grinned as England turned around.

"What, Frog?" The British gentleman raised his trademark eyebrows.

"Thank you, for today, _mon ami_," France winked. "You are so good to _moi_~!"

Rolling his green eyes, England muttered, "I don't know what nonsense you're on about, you wanker." Turning his back was a mistake. France quickly caught up, wrapping his arms around the smaller man from behind. England blushed, worried that someone might see them. "Gah! What are you doing? Let go, this is most undignified!"

"Hush," France smiled, breathing beside his ear, "let me hold you, _mon chou_."

Giving in with a grimace, shooting wary glances around the hall, England decided that if anyone caught them he would deny that he stood here willingly. France started kissing the back of his neck, however, and England bit back a groan. Those soft, seductive hands were sliding down his hips, making lust coil tightly in his core.

"That's enough!" England shoved France away, startling the pretty blond. "You will not publicly defile me!"

"Then let's do it privately," France's blue eyes flashed, "I must thank you for earlier, _non_?"

Fisting his messy hair, England growled, "Fine! Let's go to my place so I can make tea." Face lighting up with a bright beam, France nodded eagerly. England sighed; he always stood up for France during meetings, why should the blasted git show him gratitude? It was an expectation that he would defend France, nothing more.

But it made France smile.

And it made England feel needed.

"**Until the day I die,**

**I'll spill my heart for you."**


	2. Part II

**Until the Day I Die—Drabble Series**

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><p>"<strong>As years go by,<strong>

**I race the clock with you."**

"Stop teasing me and kiss me already, damn it!"

"Ohh _Angleterre_, always so impatient…"

Husky voices tangoed with the protests of a mattress. Sheets twisted in time with the convolution of pleasured cries. Silence dipped in to accompany pants, whilst noise penetrated the darkest depths. Face flushed and furious from the taunting of the Frenchman, England glared into his rival's eyes. The following kiss was fierce and forceful, prompting a smirk from France.

This ritual always concluded the night succeeding a World Meeting.

Another bout of kissing barrages and delicious bangs and the two nations were nearing the end of their escapade. France whispered heatedly into England's ear, "I pray that this never ends, _mon amour_." His subtle stubble brushed against pale skin, kissing it feverishly.

"Oh it _will_ end," England hissed, "God save the Q—ahh! _Ahh_!"

Pummeling him with swift strokes, France chuckled. Beautiful and belligerent, this was his England. "_Je vous adore, mon cher_."

"**But if you died right now,**

**You know that I'd die too—I'd die too."**


	3. Part III

**Until the Day I Die—Drabble Series**

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><p>"<strong>You remind me of the times,<strong>

**When I knew who I was."**

The more France annoyed him, the more powerful England became; his temper remained a force to be reckoned with. "Belt up you bloody prat!" Before a World Meeting began, this behavior was to be expected. Their relationship was practically built off expectations and now France was driving England off his rocker.

"Oh please, like I have to listen to you~!" France cooed, flirtatiously winding a lock of hair around his finger.

"You're really cheesing me off!" England raged. "I will beat you bloody!"

France cast him a dangerous sneer, "Oh really? Why, I would like to see you try; who knows, it might be pleasurable." The Brit yelled a slew of mind-mangling curses, causing bystanders to shake their heads or clamp their hands over their ears.

But no matter how angry he was, England loved these moments; it made him feel like a pirate again.

"**But still the second hand will catch us,**

**Like it always does."**


	4. Part IV

**Until the Day I Die—Drabble Series**

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><p>"<strong>We'll make the same mistakes,<strong>

**I'll take the fall for you."**

"Francis!" England shouted, running to his rival's rescue.

Gripping his leg as it gushed blood, France staggered into England's awaiting arms. The Frenchman's eyes flickered shut as he whispered, "Help your people, Arthur…forget about me." Heart bickering fiercely with his mind, the British gentleman struggled to make a decision. Should he help him or leave him? His own people were losing lives on the battlefront, drowning in corpses. His teeth and fists clenched.

France was just as important to him.

Dragging the limp body to a nearby hospital, England deposited France to safer care. He helped the enemy, he helped his friend; he barely remembered if he was allied with the Frenchman this time, but it didn't matter. Shiftily glancing around to make sure no one was watching, he swept the matted hair from the Frenchman's brow and pressed his lips to France's forehead.

He left the same note by his bedside, as always:

"_You had better live to fight me another day, Frog._"

"**I hope you need this now,**

'**Cause I know I still do."**


	5. Part V

**Until the Day I Die—Drabble Series**

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><p>"<strong>Should I bite my tongue,<strong>

**Until blood soaks my shirt?"**

"Good to see you," England panted heavily, blood dripping between the cracks in his armor.

"I would say the same if I did not have to see your ugly face," France smiled weakly.

Staggering, England lunged at the blond man again. Sword striking the Frenchman with an echoing clang, he watched France retreat a step. Blow after blow, wound after wound, they would fight until the bitter end. This is what it meant to be rivals; it was an eternal bond, the strongest bond—but it was painful.

"Why are you running away, huh?" England approached him with a lethal leer.

"Must you be so brutal to my beautiful body?" France sighed, sneer sickened.

"**We'll never fall apart,**

**Tell me why this hurts so much."**


	6. Part VI

**Until the Day I Die—Drabble Series**

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><p>"<strong>My hands are at your throat,<strong>

**And I think I hate you."**

Fury heated dangerously in the British nation's gaze. The Frenchman had crossed a line. Gripping France's collar, England shouted, "Why do you always have to be such a bastard? It's starting to get old, France!" France tried laughing him off, swatting at his hand, but England was more enraged than normal. This time, he was livid. "Don't you dare laugh!" Knuckles white as he tightened his fists, England slammed France into a wall. "I've had _enough_!"

Fear trickled into the Frenchman's gaze as his body rebounded sharply.

Around the room, nations fidgeted, uncomfortable. Usually there was a little throttling and it was over, but this aggression threatened annihilation. No one dared speak. Laughter died upon France's lips which quivered apprehensively.

"H-hey! Dude, calm down," America laughed meekly, starting to stand.

"How can you expect me to calm down?" England snapped. "Look at what he did!"

Ripping his shirt aside, the Brit revealed a bandage; needless to say, being backstabbed had done its damage. France ashamedly lowered his eyes. America shrank back, not daring to interfere a second time. England turned his wrathful glower upon the Frenchman. Slowly, France looked up with a mild smile. "Do you hate me, _mon ami_?"

Disgusted, England jerked France forward and put his lips against his ear, hissing, "Yeah. I do hate you. You sicken me."

"**But still we'll say, "remember when",**

**Just like we always do."**

France trembled, but his heart was unwavering. "_Je suis désolé, Angleterre_."

England started to shake, voice becoming quieter. "Like hell you are!"

Emeralds locked with sapphires. There was sincerity in the woeful eyes of Britain's foe. Stare expanding in disbelief, England released France with a hard shove and stormed out of the room. Why did the blasted pillock do this to him? He played with his heart too carelessly, time and time again. Angrily erasing tears that formed in the corners of his eyes, England choked on a sob.

They always did this.

…

They always reconciled.

Upon reentering the room, England refused to look at France. Taking his seat with disdain, the Englishman stewed in silence. Unable to help himself, the Frenchman started casting him apologetic glances. England didn't look up until he heard Germany begin bellowing at France in an atrocious manner. The green-eyed man could only take so much yelling.

"For crying out loud, Germany! Would you mind belting up?" England snarled.

The German stopped, shocked. France accepted the defense as an apology.

"**We made the same mistakes,**

**Mistakes like friends do."**


End file.
